


French Braids

by meils121



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen, Hair Braiding, Hair Washing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: The first time Parker reaches out and touches Eliot’s hair, he nearly hits her.  The sheer - Audacity?  Stupidity? - of it shocks him.  He’s dangerous and has told her as much.  But there’s Parker, gently petting at his hair like he’s a cat she’s trying to befriend.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 72
Collections: The Leverage Exchange Master Collection





	French Braids

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovebeyondmeasure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebeyondmeasure/gifts).



The first time Parker reaches out and touches Eliot’s hair, he nearly hits her. The sheer - Audacity? Stupidity? - of it shocks him. He’s dangerous and has told her as much. But there’s Parker, gently petting at his hair like he’s a cat she’s trying to befriend.

“Knock it off.” He tells her, maybe a little more gruff than he needs to be. Parker jerks back and drops her hand. She looks a little offended, which - shouldn’t Eliot be the one who’s offended? 

“How do you get it so soft?” Parker asks after a few moments. Eliot huffs out an annoyed noise and walks away without answering. He’s a hitter, he’s not here to gossip about the best types of shampoo.

Besides, he doesn’t think that Parker would really understand the purpose of spending money on shipping shampoo and conditioner halfway across the world from the little shop in Thailand that happens to have the best formula for his particular hair type. Parker only spends money on rigs and possibly clothes, although Eliot’s still not sure she doesn’t go out and steal the later just for the fun of it.

It keeps happening. Parker doesn’t seem to even notice that she’s touching his hair. Her touch is always gentle, and Eliot’s not sure if it’s that way because she’s scared or because she somehow thinks he deserves gentleness. He doesn’t deserve it, though. So he chooses to believe that Parker is still scared of him and she’s only reaching out because she’s testing him. Or because she’s reassuring herself. Or - 

Eliot starts running out of excuses just about the time Parker plops herself down next to him one day before a briefing and asks if she can braid his hair.

“I don’t braid my hair.” Eliot tries to argue, but his heart’s not really in it, especially not when Parker pouts at him. 

He ends up sitting through the briefing sporting a French braid and steadfastly ignoring the looks that Nate keeps giving him. 

The job goes south in the way that ends with Eliot having a black eye and bruised ribs and a good number of cuts from fighting in a damn warehouse - again. He hates warehouses. No good ever comes from being in one, he thinks. His clothes are torn and his hair is matted down with sweat and blood and dirt. Parker frowns, a little scowl she gets on her face like she’s personally offended by the idea of someone hurting Eliot. He’s tried telling her in the past that it’s his job. He tries again today.

“No.” Parker says. “Your job is to keep us safe.” 

Eliot doesn’t try the argument that it’s the same thing. He’s too tired, and Parker is too determined.

Parker trails after Eliot as they wrap up the job. She’s still trailing after him when he unlocks his apartment door. He’s living above the brew pub, now. It’s nice on days like this, when he’s all beat up and tired and sore. 

“Parker, I’m fine.” He says when she drifts around his apartment, her anxious energy palpable. “I’m just gonna take a shower and crawl into bed.”

Parker reaches out then drops her hand before it gets all the way to Eliot. “But - your hair.” She says, and there’s a level of worry in her voice that doesn’t come out often.

“I’ll wash it in the shower.” Eliot tells her, but it doesn’t seem to appease her anxiety at all. “Or -”

“I’ll wash it.” Parker blurts out. Eliot almost laughs, almost tells her not to be ridiculous. But then he looks at her face again and realizes that she needs that reassurance.

“Okay.” Eliot says, and he doesn’t miss the way the worry on Parker’s face starts to ease. 

He changes out of the torn clothes and into PJs. Parker’s waiting for him by the tub. She’s carefully lined up a comb, his shampoo, and a towel. Now she’s testing the water. 

“Here.” She says. 

Eliot obediently bends over the tub. Parker grabs the detachable shower head and starts rinsing the blood out of Eliot’s head. Her touch is gentle as she works her way through the knots. They’re both quiet, just the sound of them breathing and the running water and the soft scratch of the comb as it makes its way through Eliot’s hair.

Eliot finds himself drifting, soothed by the repetitive movements and caring touch. When Parker finishes washing his hair, she towels it dry with the same gentleness. Eliot doesn’t try to argue that he doesn’t deserve gentleness. Parker believes he does, and right now, that’s enough for him.


End file.
